My Heart Will Go On
by SWAC4Life
Summary: When the casts of Condor Studios are put in a reproduction of the movie, The Titanic, Sonny and Chad are forced to play each other's love interests. What will happen? Will love prevail? Find out in this modern reality twist of a classic story. Sonny/Chad.
1. Trailer

(A/N): As much as I'd like to say that I thought of this idea all by myself, I'm the kind of person who tears themselves apart after they tell a lie. Credit for the Titanic idea/part of this story goes to my good friend, Bhavana331. She also wrote a story about Sonny/Chad and the Titanic, but it's actually really different from mine. Please check out Titanic: The Channy Adventure :)

I also stole the idea for the underlined and bolded words at the beginning of the trailer from AnalystProductions, who I hope won't kill me! I really, truly hope that giving her full credit for it will suffice.

* * *

**,--'*~*TRAILER*~*'--,**

~Hold on**t**o your dreams and never let go, even when l**i**fe punches you in the face~

~Because even**t**u**a**lly, whe**n** you least expect **i**t, they _will_ **c**ome true~

**Titanic.**

~Their hearts will go on forever, but this is just the beginning…~

Love

**~*~*~*~**

**It all started with a simple movie…**

"_This movie is so boring!"_

"_Yeah, Leonardo Da Vinci and Kate Winslet are so 1997!"_

**~*~*~*~**

**A fantastic, new idea blooming into possibilities…**

'_Wait,' he thought deviously to himself, 'What if they're right? What if reproducing a new version of 'The Titanic' _will _bring in tons of money?'_

*

"_This is a great idea, and I'm willing to pursue it. I just need actors from all of your casts to play roles in the film. We're holding auditions for the female lead next week."_

**~*~*~*~**

**But what will happen…**

"_Wait, Mr. Condor, sir, who's the male lead then?"_

"_Chad Dylan Cooper."_

**~*~*~*~**

…**When drama unfolds behind the scenes?**

"_Sonny! I can't believe it! You're playing the female lead role!"_

"_What? No, that can't be possible. You're joking, right?"_

"_Look at this."_

"_Oh. My. Gosh. But that would mean that Chad and I are…"_

"_Lovers."_

*

"_I can't play Sonny's love interest!"_

"_I can't play Chad's love interest!"_

**~*~*~*~**

**Kisses…**

"_I've been flipping through this script all morning. It's… wow. How many kisses are in here again?"_

"_Well, we tried to keep it reminiscent of the original film. So quite a few."_

**~*~*~*~**

**Arguments…**

"_Fine."_

"_Fine."_

"_Good."_

"_Good."_

"_So we're good?"_

"_Oh we're so-"_

"_THAT'S NOT IN THE SCRIPT!"_

**~*~*~*~**

…**and possible Love?**

"_You're not that bad an actor after all."_

"_I wasn't acting."_

**~*~*~*~**

…**But are things turning out too similar to the movie?**

"_I'm dating Portlyn."_

"_Oh."_

"_But I like you."_

"_I like you, too, Chad."_

**~*~*~*~**

**Confusion, disappointment, and hopelessness…**

"_Chad, I-I don't think I c-can do this m-much longer. Portlyn… P-Portlyn is a great p-person when she tries, you know."_

"_I know, Sonny, but she wasn't meant for me. You were."_

"_Ch-Chad…"_

"_Sonny, I think I love you."_

**~*~*~*~**

**Drama, angst, and hardships…**

_**~ My Heart Will Go On. ~**_

_Coming Soon..._


	2. So 1997

(A/N): I know that a lot of you guys have really been looking forward to this story, and that this chapter may come as a disappointment. I'm sorry, but I am really trying to put quality work and effort into this, so forgive me if some chapters may seem boring and lacking of action. Unfortunately, this chapter features no Sonny/Chad interaction whatsoever. In fact, they aren't even IN this chapter. Please don't shoot me! :) In fact, we will actually be looking into the personal life of a certain Mr. Condor :D Some might consier this chapter as a prologue of sorts. By the way, this story will probably contain many original characters... Enjoy this first chapter!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sonny with a Chance or the Titanic or Celine Dion.

* * *

**~*-,_,--'*My Heart Will Go On*'--,_,-*~**

**,--'*~*So 1997*~*'--,**

~Hold on**t**o your dreams and never let go, even when l**i**fe punches you in the face~

~Because even**t**u**a**lly, whe**n** you least expect **i**t, they _will_ **c**ome true~

**Titanic.**

~Their hearts will go on forever, but this is just the beginning~

Love.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Bill Condor plopped down on his favorite black leather couch after a long day of hard work and opened the day's newspaper, skimming through the articles and mentally criticizing the reporters. _Everything these days is rubbish_, he growled to himself, before yanking the newspaper to another page. He scowled under his breath, once again dissatisfied.

"Bill, dear?" his wife called from the kitchen, no doubt preparing another colossal, intricate meal for the family.

He grunted in response.

"Look, sweetie, I hope you haven't forgotten that my sister and her family are coming over for dinner tonight. It would mean a lot to me if you helped me in the kitchen," Margaret Condor pleaded, entering the vast living room and carefully wiping her hands on her apron.

Mr. Condor grudgingly obeyed, setting down the newspaper trudging into the kitchen at his wife's heels. Margaret flipped the radio on, and hummed along as she worked. Constantly, she would ask her husband to chop carrots, boil potatoes, stir the soup, or whatnot. Bill obediently completed every task set before him, and he was soon covered with flour and smelled suspiciously of fish. He was miserable, and regretted ever agreeing to help his wife.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar tune emitting from the radio. He halted his work to listen.

Margaret sighed with pleasure. "Oh, I love this song," she cooed dreamily, and immediately began singing sweetly with the voice of Celine Dion.

_Every night in my dreams_

_I see you, I feel you_

_That is how I know you go on_

_Far across the distance_

_And spaces between us_

_You have come to show you go on_

"Do you remember when we first saw the movie together?" she inquired innocently, craning her neck to peer at her husband. "It was the year you proposed to me. We were dating, and we sat in the movie theater holding hands. And when Jack died I cried so hard, but you'd brought tissues in case I did. And you cried a little too." She smiled a sweet, sappy smile as she watched Bill reminiscing silently.

"You know," she continued, brushing her silky, chestnut locks back into a messy ponytail, "_The Titanic _is on television tonight. It'd be nice to watch it with our other family members, don't you think?"

Bill nodded dumbly in consent. The couple remained silent for the final hour in which they diligently worked. Dinner was prepared, the table was set, and both husband and wife trekked up the stairs of their home to change into something respectable.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Bill Condor stared fixedly at his reflection as he shimmied into his black trousers, tucked in his white collared dress shirt, fastened his belt, and slipped on a navy blue jacket. He stuck his feet into his Ecco shoes and sat down on the fluffy, king size bed.

"Da_ko_ta!" he hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth.

His eight year old daughter, the gem of his life, poked her head cautiously through the door. "Yes, Daddy?" she replied sappily.

His eyes immediately softened. "Sweetie, what are you wearing for dinner tonight? You're aunt and uncle cousins are coming over!"

Dakota waltzed in the room, her large, glistening toffee eyes glowing like a hot, burning ember. She had inherited her mother's hair, and for the occasion, it was plaited into two neat, silky braids, both tied with a silky lime green ribbon. She was adorned with a cute, ruffled white blouse, a plaid green skirt, and a miniature, bright green version of Mr. Condor's jacket. On her feet were shiny new Mary Janes over her knee high laced socks.

"Mommy said that I could wear this," Dakota said, clinging onto every syllable with feigned sweetness.

Bill greedily drank in his daughter's adorable appearance. "It's perfect," he insisted, and meant it. "Really," he added for effect.

Dakota quickly scurried over to her father and gave him a quick, tight hug. "Thank you, Daddy!" she squealed. "You look really handsome, too."

Mr. Condor's eyes twinkled. "That's my little girl. Now, why don't we go meet your mother and get ready to welcome our guests?"

His daughter skipped away, her adorable plaid skirt flouncing up in the process. Mr. Condor grinned slightly to himself, before making his way down the spiral staircase.

His wife was wearing a sleek, silver evening dress that fell to her knees, high heels, twinkling diamond studded earrings, and a simplistically beautiful diamond necklace. Her hair was let down in loose, glossy waves that cascaded down her back. Joining her and Dakota, Bill knew that they accurately resembled the image of the perfect family. The highly successful father, the caring, conservative mother, and the sweet, naïve daughter.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

The doorbell rang, and there was a sharp rap at the door. "Oh, they're here!" Margaret squealed excitedly. She dashed to the gigantic, oak door and pulled it open.

In the doorway stood five people. Bill noted, honestly and skeptically, that the group bore no resemblance to the perfect family whatsoever. The oldest, the man, was considerably tall- about two or three inches taller than Mr. Condor himself. He had short, cropped black hair and squinting icy blue eyes, which crinkled at the sides. A neatly trimmed beard concealed his chin, and he had a good-natured aura surrounding him. He was wearing khaki trousers, a green striped dress shirt, and cheap-looking loafers. A navy blue tie was fastened neatly around his neck, and his hands nervously twisted around in his pockets.

The woman was thin and willowy, with honey auburn hair to match Margaret's, except for the fact that it was pin straight and fell to her waist. Her large, doe like eyes were a glistening, luminescent aqua green, and her thin lips pulled back into a gargantuan grin. She had slender eyebrows, and they appeared to be overly plucked, and her collarbone jutted out awkwardly, but she seemed, at first glance, like a likeable person. She had paired a knee-length peach evening dress with black pumps as her outfit.

The children—there were three of them—were positioned behind their parents. The teenage girl was shuffled over to a corner, glancing around at her surroundings with no fascination whatsoever. Her heavily layered, dark brown hair was tied back in a messy bun, with locks of it hanging down and framing her face, and her deep blue eyes, framed with dark smoky eye shadow, dripped blandly with boredom. The corners of her lips were turned down in a scowl, and her pale, alabaster arms crossed sullenly across her chest. She appeared defiant and miserable in her mahogany silk blouse, frilly black skirt, and fishnet leggings. She took no notice to her twin brothers punching each other, scurrying around her parents' feet.

Margaret let out a tiny squeal, and rushed into the arms of her sister, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Katy, I've missed you so much!"

Her sister pulled her closer, seemingly constricting airflow through both of their lungs. "Margie, I've missed you, too. It's been, what, seven years since the last time we saw each other? And look what it has done to us! We're hugging each other like school girls!"

It did indeed appear, to an observing eye, as inexplicable hysteria. As the remaining people silently watched the two sisters exchange tears, the man walked up to Mr. Condor. "Kevin Benson," he introduced cordially, confidently extending a hand.

"Bill Condor," Bill replied, grabbing Kevin's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's a pleasure." He smiled.

The two sisters quickly broke free, and with a wave of her hand, Margaret led everyone to the living room. She had prepared everything perfectly, and ushered everyone to sit down on the leather couches surrounding the coffee table, positioned right beneath the glittering chandelier. She scurried frantically to the kitchen, and returned with two heaping plates of hours devours. Setting them on the table hastily, she plopped down on the couch, between her husband and the sullen looking girl.

"Well, why don't we all introduce ourselves, in case anybody forgot from our last reunion? I'm Margaret Condor, as most of you may know. This is my husband, Bill, and my beloved daughter, Dakota." She gestured towards the people in question. Dakota nodded sweetly when her name was mentioned.

"Kevin Benson," the man asserted. "My wife, Katherine, or Katy, as some of you may call her," he continued, motioning towards his wife. She smiled.

The teenager yanked the elastic out of her bun and retied it, licking her lips as she did so. "I'm Adelaide," she muttered in monotone, extending her hand as if to shake, before quickly deciding against it and giving everyone a little wave. "And these aliens who I call my brothers are Nathaniel and Robert. You can call them Nate and Robby if you want. But it would be nicer if you address them by their full names, because it bothers them," she added mischievously, smirking coyly at her siblings, who scowled at her.

"Oh," she piped up suddenly, clenching her fists on top of her lap until her knuckles were white, "and I _hate_ the nickname Addie. So don't call me that."

Bill nodded.

Sensing tension in the room, Kevin quickly pushed a plate of hours devours into his daughter's hands. "Wow, Margaret, these are delicious," he said, stuffing one of the crackers in his mouth. "Everyone, try some of these!"

Mrs. Condor couldn't help but silently thank Mr. Kevin Benson, hoping that her army of telepathic waves would reach him.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Mr. Condor grimly stirred his broth, eyeing the bowl of mashed potatoes hungrily. The palpable tension in the room hung heavily in the air. Nobody uttered a word, and everybody ate in silence, aside from the twins' constant burping and munching. He could sense Adelaide glaring at him as she delicately licked the residue of her rice pudding off her spoon.

The two twin brothers smirked at each other from across the table, each one slyly fling peas at the other when nobody was paying attention. All of a sudden, Nathaniel flicked a pea straight into Robert's mouth. Dakota, who was watching them, giggled softly into her hand.

Like a miracle, that single little giggle sent an aura of relaxation through the room. Kevin burst into a long, droning speech about his successful, but small business, Katherine showered a beaming Margaret with countless compliments on her cooking, and the twins began eating the food instead of throwing it at other people. Adelaide silently pushed her plate away, incoherently muttering something about 'watching her weight'.

_Teenagers, _Bill thought sadly to himself. _One day Dakota will be like that, too._

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

"Move it, move it!" the twin with the wavy hair, Nathaniel screamed as he jumped in front of the television.

"What are we watching?" Katherine asked, primly sitting down beside her husband.

"The Titanic."

Robert made a face. "Ewww! Why are we watching _that_?"

"Because, Robby," Katherine answered tensely, biting her lower lip with her teeth, "the Titanic is a wonderful movie. It is a classic that is meant to be enjoyed by a family like ours: a family to show its togetherness. It is an emblem of love and spirit, twisted around in a historical masterpiece."

"Um, Mom?" Adelaide cut in, folding her arms over her chest again. "Did you _plan _that heartwarming speech?" she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stuck a long, slender finger in her mouth and chewed on it slowly, contemplating something. Everyone watched her. "Okay," she began again, "I'm pretty sure that we've _all_ acknowledged the fact that this movie is, what we consider, a 'classic'." She made brief quotation marks with her fingers. "But I mean, I'm pretty sure all of _you_ guys have seen it," she said, gesturing towards the adults, "they don't _want_ to see it," she continued, pointing an accusing finger at her brothers, "and _I_," she pressed her hands against her chest, "couldn't care _less_." She smirked.

"Bill?" Margaret whimpered softly, turning to her husband, waiting for him to make a statement.

He shrugged, and flipped on the television. The movie was about four minutes in, and the old, frail Rose flashed on the screen, staring at the picture of the woman wearing the Heart of the Ocean. Her bright blue, shocking eyes electrified him, as he gazed intently at the screen.

After about the first half of the movie, a light moan escaped from the lips of Nathaniel, as he sat slumped in the corner of the couch, his hair mussed up and his face buried in the velvet throw pillow. "Please," he pleaded, "can we just stop here? This is _agony_! This movie is so boring!"

"Yeah," Robert automatically agreed. "Leonardo Da Vinci and Kate Winslet are so 1997!"

"She's not even that pretty!"

"She looks like an old lady!"

Adelaide stifled a high peal of laughter in the sleeve of her blouse as her mother firmly pressed her lips together, throwing daggers at the boys with her eyes.

Bill Condor, however, was thinking furiously, the gears in his mind turning. _So 1997…_ He pondered the phrase. _Well, what can I do to make it 'So 2009'?_

"Eh, Adelaide?" he ventured cautiously, tapping the girl lightly on the shoulders. "What do you think I could do to make something like this," he gestured towards the screen, which was still playing the movie, "into something that people your age would actually _enjoy_?"

She grinned at him. "Simple," she replied casually, folding her hands behind her head. "You're the manager of Condor Studios, right? Just produce a new version of the movie. You know, use more modern stars to play the parts. Add some twists to the movie. Change the names, and change some scenes, and you've got yourself a masterpiece." She flashed him a genuine smile- something that he had never witnessed or imagined in the short time that he had seen her.

_What a ridiculous idea! Who would be interested in something like that?_

"Daddy," Dakota squealed, poking her head out from beneath the nook of his arm, clearly excited about the idea, "if we do that, Chad Dylan Cooper _has_ to play the male lead! I mean he _has_ to." She beamed.

"And besides," Adelaide continued for her, throwing her arms up in the air and engrossing herself in the conversation, "think of the amount of money this film, this movie, will make! Think about it." She smirked knowingly. "Teens like me will be interested about the movie because of the stars that will play the lead roles, adults like you will be curious about how people have developed the original movie, and the modern twists will have kids actually _interested_ in it. It's basically the classic idea." She twirled a lock of hair that had escaped from her bun around her index finger.

The children nodded vigorously in agreement, though unable to understand the logic behind her words. The adults remained skeptical, but from reading their expressions, one would be able to tell that they were swaying towards accepting the idea.

After her brief explanation, Mr. Condor began to reconsider. He smiled. _Wait, _he thought deviously to himself,_ What if they're right? What if reproducing a new version of 'The Titanic' _will _bring in tons of money?_

"So, Dakota? Chad Dylan Cooper, huh?"

Adelaide beamed. Dakota giggled into her hands. Nathaniel and Robert punched each other viciously in celebration. Margaret cracked a small smile. Katherine and Kevin bit their lips tensely, clearly disgruntled by his decision.

Bill Condor smirked. _Besides, _he thought, _some things just aren't meant to be 'So 1997'._

He would fix that.

* * *

Reviews, anyone? Who liked Adelaide's character? I, for one, LOVE her! I plan to use her in future chapters. Who agrees?

PEACE OUT SUCKAS!!

SWAC4Life


	3. My Publicity Girlfriend

(A/N): First of all, I want to thank everyone for the amazing reviews, and to apologize if I didn't reply to yours. I'm really attempting to respond to all of them now, so keep pelting me with them, and I'm bound to respond to _one _of them! Anyways, Chad, Sonny, Marshall, Tawni, and Portlyn are in this chapter! YAY! Still, you might be disappointed with the relationship dilemma that I have Chad in right now. The good thing is, he doesn't like her back! Okay, before I let you go on and read the latest chapter, I have another announcement:

I have added a poll to my profile page. It's a story update kind of thing. I'm letting YOU guys decide which story I'm updating first! Just vote for your two favorite stories of mine, and your vote makes a big impact on which story I update first! It's a new thing I'm trying out. Oh, and if you've already voted, go vote again, because after I post this chapter, I'm going to go renew the poll (meaning that it's a new, but identical one. This is so you can vote more than once) VOTE AWAY! Enjoy this second chapter :)

Disclaimer: YES! I am proud to announce that I just recently purchased the rights to Disney Channel and Sonny with a Chance! _No you didn't. _FINE! I still own nothing :( _That's better :)_

* * *

**~*-,_,--'*My Heart Will Go On*'--,_,-*~**

**,--'*~*My Publicity Girlfriend*~*'--,**

~Hold on**t**o your dreams and never let go, even when l**i**fe punches you in the face~

~Because even**t**u**a**lly, whe**n** you least expect **i**t, they _will_ **c**ome true~

**Titanic.**

~Their hearts will go on forever, but this is just the beginning~

Love.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Mr. Condor slammed his fist on the polished oak table in front of him. The room seemed to shake in his faked anger. Before him sat the directors all the shows airing for Condor Studios: So Random!, Mackenzie Falls, Fire and Ice, Meal or No Meal, Teen Gladiator, Secret Confessions, and My Vampire Girlfriend. The all cowered under his vicious gaze.

"I've had it with this drop in viewers!" he roared, his eyes glinting with fury. Marshall let out a tiny whimper. The others desperately attempted to hide behind each other's backs while remaining firmly seated in their leather chairs.

Bill Condor absentmindedly stuffed one of his hands in his pocket, lightly stroking his vibrating Blackberry. _Do they honestly think that I'm that scary? _After waiting expectantly for what seemed like centuries, stroking the leather case, he knelt down and snatched his briefcase from his feet. Slamming it hard on his desk, he unclasped the brown leather object and pulled out nine identical packets of paper, all attached by a large paper clip. "Aren't you the quiet bunch today," he murmured, smirking. _Aren't they always?_

Finally, Mike Botticelli bravely spoke up. "Excuse me, Mr. Condor, sir? What are those sheets of paper for?" He pointed nervously at the stack in Bill's hands, twiddling his short, stubby thumbs in anxiety. "I'm not… fired, am I?" he added softly, squeezing his eyes shut and expecting the worst.

Mr. Condor roared with laughter at the obscene, ridiculous thought. "Of course not! Now, I bet you are all wondering why I've gathered you here today in the Meeting Room."

They gulped and nodded vigorously, glancing around at their surroundings. The walls climbed up to mountainous heights, intimidating the room's inhabitants. It was painted a curious shade of green: a sort of mixture between freshly fallen pine needles and the concentrated juice of a lime. In every corner, a simple, plaintive, fragile-looking plant stood, trapped in a ceramic pot. The long, glossy wood table was positioned in the center, with a multitude of beige leather swivel chairs surrounding it. The Meeting Room was a dreaded location. All of Condor Studios' meetings were staged in the vast, plain room. When Mr. Condor scheduled a meeting in the room, employees could practically guarantee that somebody would be fired.

As if reading their thoughts, Bill spoke up again, passing a packet to each director. "I'm not firing anybody, if that's what you're thinking. I'm actually very proud to make an important announcement!"

As if by magic, every member of the meeting suddenly perked up, obliviously craning their necks and straining their ears, not daring to miss a single word. There tense bodies suddenly relaxed.

"We here at Condor Studios," Bill continued with great gusto, "are going to make a movie!" He punched the air for effect.

The room was suddenly filled with the sounds of papers shuffling and slight grunts of concentration as the directors skimmed through the packets handed to them. "So," Jeffrey Chen, the director of Fire and Ice, said, "Where do _we _step in?" He gestured to the rest of the room.

"I'm producing a modernized version of the Titanic. The old one is, let's face it, getting old. A few weeks ago, my eight year old nephews complained _endlessly_ about watching it. It was absolute agony. So here's my idea. We produce a movie that is reminiscent of the original film. It has basically the same plotline, the same themes and ideas. But we alter some of the scenes, twist around the character names, cast popular teen stars to play the roles, and voila!" He snapped his fingers, grinning. "Success."

Slow grins were beginning to spread on the director's faces.

"This is a foolproof plan. This movie will attract practically every age group. We really will rake in some money with this project." He shook his head, lost in his thoughts. "Look, this is a great idea, and I'm willing to pursue it. The script is already written, and I have producers, directors, and advisors lining up to take charge of the movie. I just need actors from all of your casts to play roles in the film. We're holding auditions for the female lead next week."

"But wait, Mr. Condor, sir," Marshall Pike piped up, after a brief moment of silence, "who's the male lead then?"

Bill sighed. "Chad Dylan Cooper."

"Oh…" The sound echoed off the sides of the walls. Everyone hastily stood up to exit the room, no doubt secretly excited about Condor Studios' newest project.

Mr. Condor held up his hand to stop them. "Mike," he said, turning to face the Mackenzie Fall's director, "Don't tell Chad that he has the role until all the females have signed up for auditions. We don't want _some _people refusing to audition because of the male lead selected." _Sonny Munroe._

And to think that people thought that he was clueless.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-* **

As soon as everybody had left, Mr. Condor snatched his Blackberry out of his pocket and replied to the text message that he had received. In a matter of minutes, Adelaide Benson stepped excitedly into the Meeting Room, a wide grin lighting up her face. She had straightened her hair, her bangs combed to the front. She was wearing a tweed pencil skirt, gladiator heels, and a pale yellow tee and sweatshirt. Clutching a large pile of folders in front of her chest, she smirked at Mr. Condor and whispered, "This is so totally awesome! I'm in Hollywood!"

Despite attempting to maintain his stony demeanor, Bill Condor cracked a smile and ushered her into a chair. "Don't make me regret letting you come to Los Angeles, Adelaide," he murmured.

The teenager sighed and dropped the folders on the table. "This is seriously amazing, Uncle Bill. I've always dreamed of coming here someday." She grinned. "Can I just call you Bill? You know, to sound more professional?"

Mr. Condor shook his head, chuckling silently to himself. "Just because I'm letting you help me with my movie, doesn't mean you can take charge and address me as 'Bill'," he said, making air quotes around his name.

"Fine," Adelaide huffed, getting up to leave to room. "Check those folders out. There's some info in there that might help. And I'll be showing up during the auditions to watch." She grabbed one of the extra scripts and winked, clicking her tongue and grinning.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Chad Dylan Cooper strode professionally into the set of Mackenzie Falls, fashionably late as always and ready to shoot his next scene. His startling blue eyes widened in shock as he saw his cast mates and their director, Mike Botticelli, seated in a circle, waiting for him. He plastered his signature smirk on his face and winked at everyone. "So, Mike, what'd I miss?"

The director sighed, smoothing back his thinning black hair. "Fortunately for you, nothing. We've been waiting for the past ten minutes. Could you please take a seat so we can start this meeting?"

The blond heartthrob backed away, raising his hands in front of his face. "Wait, whoa, a _meeting_? Since when did we have _those_?"

"Sit, Chad."

He grudgingly obeyed, sitting firmly beside his girlfriend, Portlyn Murray. She scooted over closer to him, trying to bury her face in his chest, but he stiffened and stayed rigid. Disappointed, she gave up, returning to her usual position and sullenly crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Mr. Botticelli proceeded to make his announcement. "Recently, Mr. Condor has decided to produce a new, modernized version of the classic movie, The Titanic. He has decided to select stars from Condor Studios to play the roles. _All _of them."

"But wait," Portlyn interjected, a confused look plastered on her face. "We're _teenagers_. What about all the _old _people on the Titanic?"

Mike shook his head. "Makeup," he answered. "Now, I have copies of the lines for all the roles. I'm expecting everyone to try out. The part of the male lead, John Turner, has already been chosen by Mr. Condor himself. By request, we are not going to reveal the identity of the star until all the females have signed up for auditions, so I'm expecting all of you males to try out for a part that is not the lead, while taking a look at the lead's lines at the same time. Meeting adjourned," he finished, handing out the scripts.

Chad grinned cockily as he skimmed carelessly through the packet of computer paper. "It's obvious that _I _was the one chosen for the lead. There's really no competition," he murmured, more to himself than the people surrounding him.

Portlyn squealed and jumped into his lap. Chad groaned, accidentally getting a mouthful of her silky, dark brown hair. Spitting it out, he pleaded, "Port, please get off of me."

"Now, is that really the way you should be treating your steady girlfriend?" she asked, pouting her overly glossy lips.

"Portlyn, _seriously_. We're dating for _publicity_. We're not _actually _a couple. You can drop the act now. It's really making me uncomfortable." Chad abruptly stood up, causing his costar to fall on the hard wood floor.

"Sorry, Chaddy," Portlyn giggled, batting her thick, dark eyelashes and attempting, with no success, to be flirtatious.

Chad shook his head, groaning, and stalked off the set, muttering countless curses about his publicity girlfriend on the way.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Sonny Munroe was lying comfortably on the red velvet couch in the Prop Room, a half eaten slice of cold pizza in her hand, when her best friend, Tawni Hart, burst in, screaming in excitement.

"Sonny! We're going to be in a movie!"

"_What_?" the brunette cried, immediately standing up.

Tawni chuckled, flipping her glossy blonde hair. "Well, when you were out to get pizza so we wouldn't have to eat scarf and barf, Marshall made us gather around in a little 'circle' for a 'meeting'," she began, rolling her eyes and making air quotes on words. "_Anyways_, it turns out that Mr. Condor is making a version of the Titanic, and we're all going to be in it!"

Sonny screamed, shattering Tawni's eardrums and flailing her arms around in excitement, throwing the pizza to the ground. "Oh. My. Gosh! I _love_ that movie! Wow, this is so incredibly exciting, huh, Tawni?"

The blonde fashion icon rolled her eyes, but giggled all the same. "I know! It's so cool! They even have the scripts written out and everything! They have excerpts of it for us to audition with. Oh, here's your copy of the audition lines." She tossed Sonny a heap of papers.

Sonny eagerly pawed through the pile, squealing occasionally at the romantic lines, and gasping in horror at the angst and drama. "This is so sweet, but sometimes it reminds me of Mackenzie Falls with all the overdramatic scenes," Sonny sighed, setting the lines down, and lazily falling on her back. "Who are you going to try out for?"

Tawni Hart flipped her hair out of her eyes and smoothed down her polka dotted peach sundress. "_Obviously_ that Rachel What's-her-face character! I mean, she's the _star_! And I was _born_ to be a star."

Sonny glanced at her script, searching for the character in question. "Oh, you mean Rachel McGraw? Yeah, she's the new version of Rose, apparently! I wonder who will try out for John Turner," she sighed dreamily.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Tawni asked with a wave of her manicured hand. "Mr. Condor's already selected a John Turner. Nobody knows who he is."

Sonny crinkled her nose. "I think I'll try out for Rachel McGraw, too, then."

"_Sonny_!" Tawni whined, throwing a frown on her face.

"What?"

"You shouldn't try out."

"And why not?" Sonny grumbled, sullenly crossing her arms tightly and raising her eyebrows in suspicion. She glared at her friend.

_Because I want that role, _Tawni thought. "Because Chad will probably be the male lead. And you'd probably fall more in love with him than you are already if you got it."

Sonny scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I _highly_ doubt that. There's no way they'd let someone like _Chad _play someone like John," she spat. "And… I don't like him!" she added quickly, her voice shooting up an octave.

Tawni raised an eyebrow, eyeing her with a grin on her face.

"I don't like him," Sonny repeated, lowering her voice dramatically. "And besides, he's dating Portlyn."

Tawni laughed, clutching her stomach. "_Please_, Sonny, _really_? _That's _your excuse? That little she-idiot his _publicity_ girlfriend. I doubt he actually likes her."

"It doesn't matter. I. Don't. Like him! And he probably didn't get the part, so what's the big deal?"

"Dakota Condor, remember?"

She bit her lip and glanced around, her head already swarming with second thoughts. "Oh, shut up."

Tawni smirked.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Sonny stared furtively at the signup sheets that were sloppily taped to the wall of the cafeteria. The crowd that had previously swarmed around them had separated, and the room was practically empty.

Portlyn had signed up for Rachel's character, using a Sharpie to draw her name in bubble letters and leaving a red kiss mark beside it. Tawni had printed her name in hot pink pen. Most of the remaining slots on the list were filled with countless names of other girls. Rachel McGraw was the most popular role, and Sonny felt her heart sinking. _There's no chance I'll get the part against ALL of these girls, _she thought in despair.

In a surge of bravery and adrenaline, she took a short, stubby pencil from her sweatshirt pocket and scrawled her name at the bottom of her list.

_Sonny Munroe._

_

* * *

_

Reviews? My quote of the day (which really SHOULD be on top, but I decided against it):

"You know that thing when you see someone cute and he smiles and your heart kind of goes like a warm butter sliding down a hot toast? Well that's what it's like when I see a review. Only it's better."

_-Partially Stolen from "Confessions of a Shopaholic"_

So make me happy and review! GO GO GO!

PEACE OUT SUCKAS!!

SWAC4Life


	4. Monday

(A/N): Sorry for such a short update. I'm REALLY out of it these days. This was originally titled Auditions from Hell, and was going to cover the entire day and auditions, but I couldn't get myself to finish it (literally) and felt really guilty for not updating at ALL. My apologies. And enjoy! :)

Just a note, please take some time in your review to honor all the lives lost on September 11th. I was five at the time but don't remember anything, but if you have anything to share: experience, or loved ones lost, feel free to tell me. I want to know. *Moment of silence*

Disclaimer: I don't own Sonny with a Chance.

* * *

**~*-,_,--'*My Heart Will Go On*'--,_,-*~**

**,--'*~*Monday*~*'--,**

~Hold on**t**o your dreams and never let go, even when l**i**fe punches you in the face~

~Because even**t**u**a**lly, whe**n** you least expect **i**t, they _will_ **c**ome true~

**Titanic.**

~Their hearts will go on forever, but this is just the beginning~

Love.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Mondays were probably the most dreaded day of the week for most people. They marked the beginning of another load of agonizing work. Students trudged sullenly to school, ready to face droning, monotonous lectures and piles of homework. The older generation set off to work, some of which were boring and practical, others invigorating but repetitive, ready to repeat their daily agenda. Young toddlers were left at preschool and daycare, in the care of some unknown stranger, or a teacher with which they held no sentimental relationship whatsoever, bawling their eyes out and wailing for their mothers.

Sonny Munroe loved Mondays. She never necessarily ruled the day of the week out as her favorite, but the feelings Mondays evoked upon her were always satisfactory. She loved waking up to her beeping alarm clock, cramming forkfuls of syrupy buttermilk pancakes and fluffy French toast into her mouth and down her throat, and getting reading for another day of work. She loved thinking of new sketch ideas, rehearsing, and trying on wacky costumes for their performances.

This Monday was particularly special. The bubbly brunette had spent her entire weekend with her head bent over her lines, whispering the words and memorizing them by heart. She would picture her own image of John Turner standing before her, and act out the parts before him, staring deep into his startling, sparkling blue eyes. She was ready for auditions, which would be taking place the day after. She was anxious for the revealing of the actor playing John Turner. She had been restless, tossing and turning in her bed, and had to resort to a steaming mug of warm milk to ease her excitement and eagerness.

That morning, she woke up a few moments before her alarm clock started blaring out. Silencing it quickly, Sonny pulled on a pair of comfy, gray sweatpants, a dark crimson tank top, and her favorite, jade green, cashmere cardigan. Frantically, she ran a brush through her mocha brown curls and applied a little makeup. She raced to her kitchen, grabbing an apple and popping two slices of bread into the sleek, silver toaster, then relaxed and plopped down on her couch. Munching on her apple, she flipped through the script once again, marking her favorite parts with a silver Sharpie marker.

She quickly crammed the slightly burned toast into her mouth and rushed over to the studio. She almost rammed into a flustered Marshall Pike as he made his way to the other end of the studio, no doubt for a meeting with Mr. Condor.

"Ah, Sonny," Marshall murmured distractedly, acknowledging her presence with a wave of his hand. "I'd love to talk right now, kiddo, but I've got to meet Bill… I-I mean Mr. Condor," he corrected, appearing rather flustered. He swiftly side-stepped Sonny and made his way down the corridor.

The brunette felt a strange sense of foreboding, but shook it off quickly and dashed to her dressing room. That is, the dressing room she shared with Tawni Hart.

The room had recently undergone quite a bit of remodeling. Sonny had begged and pleaded until she was granted permission to change the room. Now, the walls were painted a mixture of a creamy yellow and vivid hot pink. The once-carpeted floor was now replaced with smooth, gleaming wood floor boards, which were covered in the center of the room by a royal purple throw rug that clashed wonderfully with the yellow on the walls. The couches, beanbag chairs, and pillows had been repurchased and replaced, and were now a crisp, eccentric white. Everything that remained in the dressing room was lime green, pink, or yellow, except for Sonny's favorite ebony black plush pillow still lying in a corner of the room, which she had stubbornly refused to give up.

"Hey, Tawni." Sonny greeted the blonde that was staring rapturously at her reflection.

"Sonny," Tawni acknowledged curtly, focusing the rest of her attention on the mirror.

Sonny delved into her messenger bag and withdrew the crumpled remains of her cherished script excerpts. "I was thinking Tawni, you know, that maybe we could practice some lines with each other and give each other advice?" she ventured hopefully, biting her bottom lip as she watched the blonde's reaction.

"No."

Sonny flinched at the sharpness of her response. "But, Tawni, I really think that it's a good idea!"

"No."

"But…"

"No. And that's final."

Sonny sighed in defeat, setting down her bag and slowly making her way for the door. "Fine."

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Marshall Pike shuffled nervously to the door, quickly straightening the collar of his simplistic tweed jacket and tugging anxiously at his silky maroon tie. The top of his balding head gleamed with a thin sheet of perspiration. Bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, he tentatively raised his arm and rapped on the dark mahogany wood door. His knuckles pounded sharply against the surface. Separate loud cracks reverberated off the walls of the corridor with each time his flesh met the wood.

There was dead silence on the other end. It took all of Marshall's willpower not to turn around and dash away to the safety of his office. He inhaled deeply, attempting calm himself with the lemony citrus scent of Mr. Condor's air freshener. Distracted by the aroma, he took some time to register the fact that somebody was calling him in.

Twisting his hands around in his pockets, Marshall strode into the room, glancing around expectantly for the familiar beady, squinting eyes and the thick, sausage-like fingers of Bill Condor drumming upon the glossy oak desk. Instead, he was surprised to find a dark haired teen, with her converse sneakers propped comfortably on the desk. She smiled knowingly at him as he met her gaze, and grinned even more widely at his bewildered expression, her deep sapphire eyes crinkling around the edges. She seemed perfectly at home in his presence, gently brushing her gnawed, chewed index finger along a pile of messily strewn papers. Leaning back in Mr. Condor's slate gray swivel chair, she sighed contently and fixed her gaze on the executive producer once again.

"Who are y-?"

The adolescent cut in, and beamed exuberantly as she announced, "Adelaide Benson," confidently extending her hand and leaving Marshall hanging, aghast and mid-sentence.

He shook her hand wearily, straining a trivial, simpering smile. "Marshall Pike. Executive producer and director of So Random!" At this comment, the teen's eyebrows shot up to the top of her head, displaying genuine surprise. Marshall took no notice, and hastily continued with his rather blunt introduction. "Wonderful to meet you, Adelaide, but if you'll please get up, I've been called here for a meeting with Mr. Condor?"

Adelaide, fully recovered from the past shock, shrugged nonchalantly, brushing her silky bangs back with her hand. "No problem. I've already discussed everything with him. You just have to notify your cast that the auditions for the movie are taking place this afternoon instead of tomorrow. We feel that this way we'll be able to narrow our options for the major roles down to those who are actually really into participating in the movie. They'd have already prepared."

Marshall paused to for a moment to admire the simplistic genius of this one girl, staring blankly at her, clearly astounded. Adelaide smirked at his reaction, chuckling softly to herself and absentmindedly tousling her hair. Nobody spoke for a moment of brevity, and they both stared fixedly at each other, she with a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and he with pure shock glinting in is dark almond shaped eyes.

"You run So Random!, huh," the girl murmured thoughtfully after a considerable amount of silence. She got to her feet, smoothing down the creases that had appeared on her navy blue and ebony black striped shirt.

Marshall nodded blandly.

"I used to watch that show a lot a while back. It was hilarious! It _is _hilarious, I mean."

Finally, he managed to wheedle a few strangled words out of his lips. "Used to? Is something wrong with it now?" He was worried.

She snickered lightly. "No, no, didn't I say it was hilarious? No; it's just that ever since So- the new girl joined, it just… hasn't really been the same anymore." She heaved a tiny sigh.

"Sonny brought a lot of popularity to our show," Marshall protested, looking indignant, but was whisked away as Mr. Condor emerged, talking animatedly to another director. Not wanting to interfere, he scurried hurriedly down to the Prop Room, where he was lucky enough to find all five members of his cast gathered around the plastic lawn gnome, acting out scenes of the movie in bored tones. Marshall assumed that Sonny had compelled them to do so. Her entire face was lit up as she spurted out lines with great gusto.

"Marshall!" Zora screamed suddenly. "Save us from this undying agony!"

"Glad you're practicing, kids," he said, impervious to Zora's plea for mercy. "Because apparently, the auditions are being held today!"

"What?!" the So Random! cast screamed simultaneously. Sonny looked murderous.

"Well… it turns out they decided to surprise you by bumping the date up a little bit! So… surprise!" he chuckled uncomfortably.

They glared at him.

***-,_,-*~*-,_,-***

Chad Dylan Cooper had always thought of himself as a Romeo. He was a charmer, a player, and the guy that dwelled and thrived in every girl's most secretive dreams. And although he knew that he wouldn't be able to live it down if another young actor had been given the male lead role, he also wasn't quite sure whether or not he desired it himself.

When Mike had approached him early that morning, immediately after he set foot into the studio, he didn't know how to react. And when he had been told he was getting the part of John, he swore he could have fainted. And after the shock had passed, all he could do was hope that Portlyn wasn't given the lead role, something which he sincerely and highly doubted. He thought of her as a friend, if she was even that, and nothing more. But he utterly abhorred how clingy and desperate she was, starving for attention and smothering him with attempted kisses.

So now he strode confidently (and somewhat cautiously) onto the set of Mackenzie Falls for the third time that day (it was, after all, the largest set in the studio, and became the site of the auditions), glancing around him for somebody he recognized. He saw a gaggle of producers sitting in the far corner, timidly discussing some sort of dilemma. And he saw Mr. Condor, who was alone except for the teen of about sixteen chattering animatedly at his side. He approached them.

"H-Hey, what's up, Mr. C?" he chuckled nervously, stealing a glance at the girl who had suddenly become deathly silent.

"Sit down, Chad."

Obediently, he propped himself next to them. The girl immediately shuffled away from him, avoiding eye contact and curling her lip in a disgusted look.

One by one, girls from shows he wasn't even familiar with entered the room. Their eyes widened once their gaze found their way to Chad. Some squealed, some screamed, and a handful of them fainted. One, however, rolled her eyes and scoffed, glaring at him and appearing as though she would rather be burning in the center of the Earth than on the set.

Sonny Munroe.

_Let the games begin._


End file.
